


Let Me Be The Good In You

by YogurtTime



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Angst and Feels, KAT-TUN angst, M/M, Post-Fired Koki, Rough Sex, Spanking, Tiny bit of daddy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-14 20:53:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13015917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YogurtTime/pseuds/YogurtTime
Summary: “Now Koki is so very good; hebehavesfor an unappreciative void; to a demographic that would never quite know just how good he can be and to what degree he hasn’t been.“





	Let Me Be The Good In You

**Author's Note:**

> So I always kind of assumed my Koki 'closure' fic would be denden, but really, nakanaka has a sort of compare/contrast history-ridden value to it. The Koki who was Nakamaru's was something I always really wanted to get into and I also sort of wanted to address all my Koki feels. Honestly, none of it is meant to be taken for gospel like any of my mad headcanons, Also there was ayame_hadouken and I waffling about Nakamaru playing the resident ~daddy~ of KAT-TUN recently and for me (i am so self-aware of how this is going to sound but) he was Koki's daddy first and foremost. *waits as fandom backs away*

 

 

_Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil._  
For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?  
**-Kahil Gibran**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the evening approaches, Koki navigates the inner workings of being self-actualised. A real person that will live and die on this planet, in this system of blacks and whites, good or bad.

Solo.

Alone.

He has these thoughts. Mostly memories. Things that don’t even feel old, but are growing in the recesses of his cognitives like a strange sort of decay.

They are all named after Yucchi at this point.

It’s OK now. Koki just lets himself think of him like a favourite fantasy. Never with anyone else there; just city noises, the cold and the sound of his own exhale, breathing smoke. He props his arms on his balcony railing and thinks of Yucchi and most of the time, he’s smiling and shivering with themes.

Yucchi’s words, his glances, his stares and scattered touches.

_“Will you behave?”_

They had this...peculiar relationship from the beginning. Yucchi was always sort of ‘his’ in a few ways. Like they were: two and two and two, then four and one in all of its manifestations and Koki wanted Yucchi most; the Yucchi with his words.

Behave. Be calm. Be careful. Be _still_.

Be mine.

Koki knew it was like that; knew what it meant in the massive scope of things. They weren’t official. Relationships were always tricky in their line of work. Yucchi being possessive in his own way, owning every one of them the way he does with passive gestures; with calm, grounding pats and pulls.

Koki folds his arms tighter on the railing.

The sun sinks low, kissing the top of the city, but it sends sharp, burning strands through the skyscraper windows right at Koki. He bends his head now and looks at the streets beneath him and he can feel Yucchi’s hard, delicate fingers massaging hard white lines over the back of his neck. The same way he used to when he’d say things with a tone in contrast.

“ _Have you been sleeping at all?_ ” he’d ask, embedding his fingertips into muscle until Koki is tensed and smiling, looking up at him wonderingly. Then Yucchi lets go and everything in Koki goes to jelly.

And Koki had hung his heart right on the curve of Yucchi’s smile.

Koki does like to stray; he likes other people, loves to get a full range of types and touches. What he likes physically never mattered though because he isn’t anything but warm and fragile when Yucchi gets a hold of him and yanks him right back.

_“Don’t wander off tonight.”_

And it’s just as simple as that because after days of quick and easy hot messes wherever else he could get it. Sex with Yucchi was lifting comfort. He’d drop kisses down Koki’s cheek and chin until he’d be laughing and squirming because Yucchi smiled into each and every one. Best friends, big brother and little brother, something more, something possessing...loving without taking as much as everyone else had had yet still. Koki used to chuckle between the moments Yucchi had his mouth on him because he felt like he _belonged_ to him and the way the very notion paralysed him with fear made him laugh until tears came.

So Koki would ink himself out of sheer rebellion because his body was no one’s but his. Pain and needles a reminder that he was strong, thick-skinned, that he was the only one who felt his own pain and lived with it; the only one...

Koki would come into work and show them off to mirthful gazes and incredulous smiles. Then where no one else could see, Yucchi would look admiring and pained for him before his hands would close on Koki’s hips, drag him down on his knee, set him there and trace the lines of Koki’s new tattoos with a bemused smile.

_“Will you please be good this time?”_

Koki never told him no, but it was always going to be no.

He wasn’t… a well-behaved person. At night he wanted to raise terrible hells and throw broken bottles of colour at the blank canvas of the social structure around him. He’d let Yucchi with his sweaters, sensible musks and soft, disappointed looks cup his cheeks and kiss him, kiss him modestly and determinedly--wet tang of an expensive pastry on his breath-- until Koki gasped for release, a shaking mess.

There was Irony etched into the void of its semantics but Koki wanted to hear it anyway. _“Good boy.”_

Other people romanticised his life, his way of being, tried to make him feel special in a way that left him feeling defeated at the end, heated whispers in his ear, raging moans of “little whore, but you’re mine now…”, “you’re such a bad boy but you’re so sweet...”, or “You’re not at all what I expected.”

Words like that never crossed Yucchi’s lips, never seemed to occur to him when he had Koki to himself. Yucchi’s palm on his head, leaning into his space, gazing fondly, proudly and Koki used to wish so fervently he could be just _good_.

Right before he’d misbehave for him.

Koki felt like it was only Yucchi who could see right through him. Yucchi was like a methodical glance at the ugly shards inside and it perplexed Koki constantly that Yucchi seemed to like what he saw even and _especially_ when others didn’t.

Koki twists around slowly, resting his elbows on the railing and he shuts his eyes. His apartment is nearly too dark and he keeps thinking repetitives. Yucchi. Yucchi. Yucchi.

They never had closure.

He got The Look. Yucchi clear across a room with a large table between them, constant chatter and questions and pleas and Koki, much humbled by his own sense of contrition and shame, only dared look at Yucchi once through the whole thing.

When he said, “ _Perhaps an apology. I would stand in line with him and he could apologise; or sanctions even. Please, some strict disciplinary method instead of…_ ”

Yucchi dropped the statement as the executives shook their heads and made their hemming and hawing to indicate that this was not up for discussion. This investment; this mistaken career child sitting under tens of gazes like roasting judgement. There Yucchi was looking at him and Koki glanced back quickly but not quickly enough to miss the curl of his mouth, the distress and frustration fixed on a single dart of pain unintentionally being speared right through Koki.

“ _We’re a_ group _. I don’t suppose if there could be a loophole for _our_ good behavior, at least?_ ” someone else said. Koki didn’t know who. It wouldn’t have mattered given the incredulous looks this question seemed to warrant. Koki was too busy breathing in the aftershock of Yucchi’s stare.

Koki hung his heart on the stress line between Yucchi’s eyes and wondered if he had ever been as good as _they_ wanted him to be, would Yucchi still have fought for him.

 

 

 

*

 

 

Now Koki is so very good; he _behaves_ for an unappreciative void; to a demographic that would never quite know just how good he can be and to what degree he hasn’t been. So it is, standing out here in the chill of night, reliving touches, tastes and warmth, he wishes he could ask if it’s even worth anything without Yucchi there to kiss him back into petulance, to touch him until he wanted to be so bad it hurt.

He’s almost relieved that his thoughts go still when he hears his front door.

He expects it’s just Naru coming around to torment him for a while before grabbing the last train, so Koki hops in through his screen door and pads quickly for the genkan, prepared to make some joke about being interrupted.

The joke dies on his lips when he gets a look in the peephole. In that narrow encasing, gold-plated circle, he sees a set of knuckles sweep over a furrowed brow, wiping at moisture with some irritation. The eyes that suddenly dart up seem to look right at him through the tiny glass, speculating and all-knowing. Koki holds his breath because he feels strangely certain that he’d hear it; hear _him_ , palms pressed to the door, thinking only, “ _No, no, no_ ,” in a definitive pattern.

Yucchi looks at the door, at the peephole-- the side he can see-- and his gaze darts off impatiently as he brings the back of his hand to the door again, knocking with precision enough to make Koki take a sharp step back.

He might’ve opened it; he almost convinces himself to do it, but then come the questions. Obviously Yucchi isn’t supposed to be here, obviously it’s Koki’s decision and the _right_ one. Not just because he knows what it could do if anyone found out, but that the very thought of saying something as banal and injuring as, ‘How’s work?’ makes him feel sick.

He’ll just pretend he isn’t home. Circumstances like this are a hit and miss anyway and Yucchi will go away and, whatever prayer could do, won’t come back and do this to him.

Koki makes it as far as the step just beyond his genkan when he hears the jingle of keys and the sharp scrape of one sliding into the lock.

He freezes. He can hide; he can probably just race for his bedroom and curl himself up in the closet until Yucchi leaves because this isn’t fair. He knows he can’t do this, can’t deal with seeing him, but his body protests, rooted to the floor. He doesn’t let himself breathe even when the lock clicks and his doorknob turns.

Yucchi doesn’t see Koki the instant he steps in. Instead he slips around the open door and stares for a very brief second at the space where Koki was moments before he’d scrambled back. Koki can feel his knees about to give when Yucchi’s studying gaze rises and zeroes in on him standing across the space of a metre away..

It takes all of a raw moment for Koki to take in the sight of him. Nothing is different. He looks like he’s just come from work--winter coat over a carefully pressed black sweater buttoned on top of a pale blue shirt and dark slacks. He looks like he’s been running with that strange flush pooled in his cheeks, and his hair sticking up in odd directions like he’d run his hands through it over and over.

Koki wills his fists to unclench, wills himself to do something; _anything_. The heel of his socked foot slips just an inch back. He isn’t sure where he’s about to go because the way Yucchi’s looking at him, a stare out of the dark of a wilderness unfamiliar, burns him solid. Yucchi seethes with something that Koki can feel between each string of anguish winding up his windpipe. Koki almost begins a demand in tones he’d only have used for him. _Why did you come here? How could you do that? You know you can’t…_

The words climbing his throat swell like a lump and he watches Yucchi’s jaw work as he shuts the door behind him. It slams and it’s too late for Koki to shout at him to leave when needle-points of pressure burn the rims of his eyes. He goes to say it all and the only thing that comes up is a horrible sound of distress.

Yucchi doesn’t remove his shoes, jacket or anything. He is a speeding rush toward him, and Koki is still a stiff board stranded to his spot in his living room when Yucchi crashes into him, bold fingers closing on his shoulders before scooping around him.

Koki only just starts to tremble in a sensory overload: Yucchi smelling like studios, burnt lights, and his usual sharp musk, so warm in every break of skin contact and cold where his fingers are; all at once, the sound of him breathing, heart racing and so _close_. Koki reaches up, grabs his jacket and squeezes back and a hot breath, feathering over the collar of Yucchi’s jacket shocks Koki as it splashes over his lower neck. He squeezes because of the flood of want he gets when Yucchi has hold of him like this, owning him instantly.

He begins to say something but the word shatters in his mouth because Yucchi leans back, irises pooled with a calling bite as he shakes his head in some nameless panic, already leaning in for his lips.

Koki makes a sound of pain in his throat at the first touch of his mouth. Lips close on his, arms encasing him tighter as Yucchi mouths up his upper lip, teeth half scraping when his hands slip up and grasp the back of his neck, He practically pulls Koki to stand on his toes to reach him and deepen it the harder he kisses him. Koki’s fingers curl and his whole body melts in these seconds especially where Yucchi’s tongue forces his lips open again, slips over his teeth and licks hungrily over his tongue.

Oh, he’s been kissed like this before. Kissed in a hundred different ways; so many different lips that want his, that pull him apart at the seams with just their taste alone, but this _difference_ is that it’s _Yucchi_ ; compared to his usual gentle and affectionate ministrations; the almost _polite_ way he used to wait for Koki’s mouth to open for him. It’s all become this ravenous biting and wet hunger where Koki is forced to open his mouth again just so he can breathe; _cased_ in helpless suffocation.

Still, Yucchi is relentless. The tip of his nose brushes over Koki’s cheek when he tilts his head, fingers pressing a warming set of imprints on the back of Koki’s neck as his tongue digs an imploring line up the edge of Koki’s. Yucchi melds them together with a single shift of his frame, _forcing_ them to fit and Koki feels himself already starting to press his hips in, feels himself start to rock over him, out of control, working himself hot and hard.

Yucchi makes a soft, heavenly sound, like a groan but not quite; just a low voiced aspirate when he pulls away and leans in to kiss Koki’s forehead, his brow, inclining Koki’s head upward and kissing his eyelashes to his cheek as they flutter shut. He moves his palms, gently, like he’s feeling from Koki’s neck to just behind his ears and kisses his nose quickly and Koki has to bite his lips because the weight of feeling in it is too excruciating.

His whimper only makes Yucchi come back for his mouth. He sucks and nibbles at Koki’s lips before his tongue is back in his mouth, winding a rough curve over his and Koki, feeling his erection rubbing harsh heat on the inside of his pants, unclenches from Yucchi’s jacket, and reaches quickly for its buttons.

Yucchi’s hands come down from Koki’s hair and he buries himself in at Koki’s neck, breathing out like a agonised sigh before closing his lips on the naked skin, soft and hard, delicate fingers push at the collar of his t-shirt to get at more, sucking and nibbling as Koki’s fingers shake, unhooking each button when he can ground himself again.

When he pulls at the lapels of Yucchi’s jacket, off his shoulders, only then does Yucchi let him go, stepping back to shake it off, eyes dropping as if not looking at Koki is the only thing he can do to keep from grabbing him again. Koki watches how deeply blood-fed Yucchi’s lips look when he sweeps his tongue across them as he kicks off his shoes. It only takes him being grabbed and pushed nearly over it for Koki to realise he’d backed into the arm of his sofa. Yucchi holds him at the shoulder, thumb sweeping across his collarbones as he bends low and nuzzles frantically along Koki’s chin down to his neck again. He feels the pressure of his fingers and Koki swallows, dragging nails over the buttons of Yucchi’s sweater.

They’re in a rhythm, Yucchi’s tongue licking gleaming, electric spots near the opening of his shirt makes Koki feel like he’s going wild, shaken by ecstasy memories of Yucchi pulling him to pieces in the dark, under covers, modest and precise. Now, though, it is anything but with Yucchi’s buttons undone and his naked chest pressed to Koki. Like this they’re in the flagrant light of the early evening, out in the open and Koki. so painfully hard, hitches his hips upward with his legs spread against the sofa, burned by how he can feel his cock rut on the inside of his zipper through his shorts. Yucchi reaches down, invited, and palms him, rubs the heel of his hand over where it hurts most. making Koki say his whispered, pitched, “ _Yes_.”

Yucchi touches it again, and Koki can feel him circle his hips at the same time his hand pushes over his cock and he then feels the rumble, the helpless baritone when Yucchi groans against the pulse of Koki’s throat, rougher than he’d ever been. Koki tries not to mewl as he takes the sound of that in, animated in complete arousal because all he hears again is Yucchi groaning through his teeth again, holding something back, completely wrecked for just touching him. It’s as though the lines of his throat have turned to stone, scraping against each other, Yucchi does it again, reluctantly pushing his hand away from Koki’s erection to up his shirt. He plays one greedy five-fingered pattern up Koki’s stomach and over his nipples. Koki gasps, and he can’t stop himself; his hips roll at a harder pace over the line of Yucchi’s thigh grinding between his legs and his lips coming to close over the dip in his shoulder..

Koki moans loud, open-mouthed with Yucchi sucking a bruise into his clavicle. He rocks like he’s riding him, panting when Yucchi tips his head back with a push of his thumb, murmuring a barely-there word to calm him as he brings his hand out of Koki’s shirt to seize him still by his belt.

Koki keeps himself prostrate and spread and his hands fall back to brace himself, one hand gripping the back, the other fist clenching the loose fabric on the sofa arm when Yucchi pulls on his belt buckle. He lets Koki perch half on his knee and half on the arm of the sofa as he unzips him and slips his fingers under the waistband of both his jeans and shorts. Koki quivers, almost unable to see straight. loving the stripe of Yucchi’s fingers on his thighs. He gets up so Yucchi can pull his pants the rest of the way down.

There’s no pause; Yucchi’s fingers crush into his ribs when he slips close for another kiss, this time, getting a handful of Koki’s thigh, massaging with his thumbs and his fingers on the back of them. Seeming then to savour the crush of skin, he lets go and crouches down, kissing down his chest and biting over his pectorals. Koki says his name, ground out and desperate when Yucchi streaks his tongue down the side of his lower stomach and sucks in at the curve between his thigh and his hip.

It’s abrupt but just right, the way Yucchi’s fingers feel curling again on his thighs. He twists Koki around so he’s bent over the sofa’s arm, cock pressed to the rough texture of its fabric. Koki braces himself on the couch cushions as Yucchi’s hands squeeze up the backs of his thighs, leaving a sort of throbbing ache when he lets go.

Koki tries not to move when he feels Yucchi lean into him, press the front of his slacks, grooves of his erection digging into him. Then those same hands come up and cup the curve of his naked ass. Koki clenches his teeth, holds himself steady because he’s expecting it but he still utters a sharp cry when Yucchi grabs a handful and squeezes.

He feels Yucchi grind on him when he makes that sound and he utters one fainter. Yucchi rocks on him harder, a brushing heat that makes Koki so wild and he ruts up on the couch, wincing at the friction. He squeezes again, nails digging and Koki leans back into it and whatever that tells Yucchi, Koki cries out because a hard palm slaps right on the underside of his ass, right where he’s already becoming red and tender.

Yucchi starts to edge himself upward on him, dropping another merciless smack, his palm landing in one sharp stinging contact and Koki pushes his face into the cushions, shocked at himself, shocked that he’s waiting for more and wanting it harder. He cries out because the next one hurts just that little bit extra and it’s like awakening, knowing he is really there and tumbling in the vague repercussions of all that Yucchi wants from him. He wants to be good, still doesn’t know if he knows how but as each blow of skin to skin echoes in the room, Koki wants to give him everything. Koki moans louder for him, rubbing himself on the sofa like he’s never been so desperate to get off.

The shape of Yucchi’s cock grazes up his thigh again, pressed down up a curve like he’s grinding over the pain, using the heat of Koki’s skin as a chiding reminder of his own need. Koki closes his eyes and feels how wet his eyelashes are; he sniffs instinctively in this silent, erotically heavy pause. Yucchi breathes a voiced sigh and his left hand slides up Koki’s back while the other plays fingertips over where Koki’s skin is smarting and sore. Yucchi brushes these soothing lines right before he digs his fingers in, squeezing again.

Koki presses his fists into the cushions to lever himself up, hissing as the bottom of his cock slips down the incline of the sofa and Yucchi’s one finger rubs down his tailbone, a telling order until Koki spread his legs for him, making a sound like a plea.

Yucchi pets him, his thumb edging along the dip of his crease with a languid, thoughtful touch. Koki squeezes his eyes shut, his whole body burning. Even in Yucchi’s silence, this wordless, all touching exchange only has Koki thinking that nothing and no one can make him belong to him any less.

The same thumb reaches down and in, circles his exposed rim and Koki bites the cushion, groaning through his teeth. Yucchi pauses, hips pressed, digging so hard into him, under his usual composure, keeping himself from rutting on Koki, finishing that way. Koki wants him, wants Yucchi over him like this. As an almost flailing gesture, Koki slips a quick hand, searching around in his sofa’s cushions. He knows what Yucchi will think and what it’ll mean in the general clause of thing when he pulls out a tube he’d crushed in there only nights ago in a hurry.

Yucchi reaches over him, takes it with something like a low sigh but he places a placating kiss on Koki’s left shoulderblade, breathing hotter and heavier than Koki had expected. Koki whines his name, when he feels him reach back, feels how Yucchi’s shaking, now wet fingers licking at his rim, playing the tips in teasingly, groaning when Koki trembles for him, arching off the couch for him. .

Then he’s inside, one tempered hand balancing him at the shoulder, blunt nails creasing into his skin and the other beginning to thrust, gently with a breathy, shaking, “Hush now,” as Koki lets out a tremulous whine. Koki nods, brimming with affection and wants to take all of him in at once; he whimpers, his cock so hard and aching over the sofa’s surface and Yucchi being so terribly slow at it all.

He loses his head completely when Yucchi’s left hand moves from his back to circle around his ball, holding him in a rough encasement, blurring the lines of his pleasure with a loss of his control and all of it suddenly in Yucchi’s. Koki won’t be able to come until Yucchi lets him.

“Please, Yucchi,” he whispers, pitched and desperate, muttering nothings and truths, almost certain Yucchi can’t hear him. “Make me be good, please.”

He hears it, the comforting, “Shhh…” and Koki doesn’t make a sound again except a voiceless grunt when Yucchi’s fingers slide out of him and one finger remains pressing down, stretching just into his perineum, slick and engulfing like a licking sensation touching everything on him at once. Koki moans it again and Yucchi makes an admonishing sound and squeezes his balls just lightly and Koki feels like its stuck in him, every word and want piling up in his stomach, making the way his hips rock impulsively on the sofa feel like torture and heaven all at once.

“Nng, _please_.” He can’t stop himself and Yucchi clicks his tongue and pulls his finger away and Koki starts to sob, the cushion under him all wet with tears and his open-mouthed breaths.

He hears Yucchi’s belt buckle and he’s awed that just that sound has him canting his ass backward, wanting him inside again. Yucchi complies, but he reaches forward and takes a firm and quelling grasp on the base of his cock. Koki is beyond word and sound and he nuzzles over the cushion, trying to gain some imitation of touch, never wanting it more than this. Yet then he feels the touch of it, Yucchi slipping a wet index finger in a burning slick circle in his opening, before pulling, stretching Koki further as he lets the head of cock, thicker than fingers touch at him, smear the lubricant and pre-ejaculate up his crease.

Koki swears, unloads an infinite supply of curses and prayers and Yucchi shudders right into him and Koki says his name like god and Yucchi thrusts hard and full all at once. Koki’s knees give out but Yucchi still holds him, fingers squeezing the base of his cock as he rides in again and again.

He’s dripping with sweat, in gorgeous agony and bouncing forward with the drive of Yucchi’s hips, going faster, pistoning into him. Koki howls, slack-jawed and gasping for air and praying for more of just that like he could actually come from simply being fucked.

Yucchi leans forward, bearing down on him with his weight, the smooth texture of his stomach sliding up and down Koki’s back, skin sticking where they touch. He squeezes tighter, rocking faster on one intense rhythm, breathing up Koki’s spine a whole new hot shiver. Koki begs and begs, unable to even rock with him, just taking him in, paralysed with a stilted release and just hanging on desperately.

He’s blind, caught up in burning arousal and feeling impaled through his middle. Yucchi then slows as he hits a disjointed thrust, growling out a breath like he can’t hold it in and Koki rubs himself off on Yucchi’s loosening fingers, feeling on the edge of it, about to come and pushing himself back on Yucchi’s cock, arching him right onto his prostate so he can get it from the inside. He raises his head, his world completely blurred with tears and swirling colour as he spreads his legs.

Yucchi groans, palm coming up Koki’s cock, and fisting the head, fucking full body convulsions out of Koki.

Yucchi bites him, gasping as he shoves himself deeper in, twitching as he works Koki off to make him come. Koki buries his face in the seat and cries out, knowing he must be practically screaming when Yucchi jacks him off, slowing his ride to a savouring pace, filling Koki until all he can feel is his cock and he comes like that. Shaking, crying, and rocking into Yucchi’s hand, hips moving through it like he can’t control himself.

“Yucchi, _Yucchi_ ,” he wails, aware that hands are still on him and that Yucchi is still rocking into him, now faster and blindly. The hand that was once on him now slides up his stomach, pulling him up at an angle so he can hit him deeper. Koki, muscles lax and cheek to the cushions, manages to reach up and grab his hand, interlock his fingers over Yucchi’s as he finishes in him, panting into aftershocks and falling into an off-pattern, trembling.

Yucchi murmurs something faint, something that sounds like, “ _Good boy_ ,” and Koki has to bite his tongue not to beg him to say it again.

 

 

*

 

 

Their silence can’t last. Koki has crumpled to the floor and Yucchi doesn’t mind, has enfolded him from behind, one arm pillowing him and the other snugly around his ribs. The tip of his nose glances across Koki’s shoulder as his lips trace memorising dotted lines into Koki’s skin.

Their breaths have slowed and Koki can’t let go of his hand; he tried and tried but it only had him squeezing their fingers tighter together. Yucchi hums a weary and loving sound behind his ear as he comes down, “Oh, Koki,” he says. “Koki, what have you done to me?”

Koki shuts his eyes. There’ll be consequences; there’ll be open wounds.

He can already see it; feel it against the space behind his arm where Yucchi’s smile grows and his forehead presses. For everything that’s happened, for work ethic, for laws and decency, Koki couldn’t ever be their sort of good because he wants Yucchi most. The Yucchi with his words.

“And to think.” Yucchi whispers into his neck, fulfilling promises they never made and solidifying this world of self-sacrifice. “I tried so very hard to be good for you.”

 

 


End file.
